


And The Snow Will Fall

by Miya_Morana



Series: Winter Retreat [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Public Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miya_Morana/pseuds/Miya_Morana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Derek makes things clear for the pack, and Stiles makes a sleeping arrangements decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And The Snow Will Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'public displays of affection' square of my [homebrewbingo card](http://miya-tenaka.livejournal.com/152803.html).

Derek is touching him. All the time. It’s as if now that he’s touched him once, in a non-threatening and not entirely life-saving related way, he can’t get enough. Or like he’s marking his territory, which, yeah, would make more sense, because Stiles is not _that_ irresistible.

Not that Stiles is complaining, though, but it’s somewhat distracting when he’s enjoying delicious pumpkin soup and there’s a warm arm wrapped around his back, a hand resting lightly on his shoulder, fingers occasionally brushing against his neck. Stiles can’t help but press his leg against Derek’s under the table, smiling a little bit. Okay, a lot.

They haven’t really had the time to talk yet about that…thing, whatever it was, but it seems obvious that it wasn’t just the heat of the moment so to speak, otherwise Derek wouldn’t be all over him like this. 

Scott is sitting in front of Stiles, trying very pointedly not to look at Derek’s hand or even too much in their general direction, and Stiles would feel slightly hurt if he didn’t know that his best friend is just a little bit freaked out and will come around eventually. Because Scott is always cool with stuff.

Isaac keeps smiling at them though, like this new development is the _best thing ever_ , and it makes up from the awkwardness coming off from half of the pack.

Not all of the awkwardness is directed at them anyways. Jackson is glaring daggers at Peter when Lydia steals the radishes from the older werewolf’s salad without even thinking about it. Peter smirks, amused by Jackson’s jealousy, and purposefully pours some water into Lydia’s glass just as she’s about to reach for it.

Jackson should be used to it by now, really. Peter and Lydia have had this kind of freaky connection hanging between them ever since the whole resurrection thing, and they all know that Lydia is totally in love with Jackson and that Peter is just yanking Jackson’s chains and not interested in Lydia that way. Well, not _really_. Peter sort of flirts with everyone, including Stiles.

Boyd gets up from the table and walks back into the kitchen to check on the roast. He’s been stealing glances at Stiles and Derek for a while, but Stiles couldn’t say if he’s curious, confused or just a bit surprised. At least he’s not outright staring at them with a mocking grin the way Erica does every time Derek isn’t looking in her direction. Stiles really doesn’t know what to make of that.

Boyd comes back with the roast, which is huge even for all ten of them, and Derek starts cutting it. The Alpha serves himself first, which would be rude if this wasn’t a werewolf pack, and then he seems to hesitate. The second portion of food usually goes to Scott lately, as he’s kind of become Derek’s second, and then clockwise around the table. But not tonight. Tonight, Stiles gets meat on his plate before Scott does. And okay, _wow_.

Everyone stares for a couple of seconds, and then Lydia grabs the bowl of potato salad with a little shrug and the others seem to relax. Stiles raises his eyebrows at Derek when the Alpha sits back down, but Derek’s eyes are fixed on Peter again. Peter who sighs almost dramatically, then winks at Stiles. Derek’s jaw tightens.

Stiles discretely puts a hand on Derek’s thigh, which is warm and firm under his palm, and Stiles tries not to think about other things that were hard and firm not so long ago, because he’s pretty sure almost everyone at the table would know it if he became aroused.

Derek seems to relax a bit under his touch, and looks at Stiles with the soft hint of a smile in his eyes. The rest of the meal happens without any more awkward incidents, but Derek’s leg presses heavily against Stiles’s while they eat.

After the dessert they move to the living room, where someone has lit a fire in the chimney. Scott and Allison sit together near the fire, and Isaac drags Erica and Boyd down on the comfortable carpet to play Smallworld, because even as a badass werewolf Isaac is sill a nerd and has made it his mission to convert his pack mates to the awesomeness that are games. Stiles approves.

That’s why he doesn’t think twice about dragging Derek with him to where the pups are sitting. Derek sits down with him, but declines joining in on the game. Stiles watches as the firelight colors Derek’s skin copper and puts gold flecks in his eyes. He looks just gorgeous.

When Stiles manages to tear his eyes off Derek, he notices that Peter is lounging in an armchair that he’s dragged as far away from the fire as he possibly can, a book in his hand. Lydia and Jackson have disappeared somewhere, but that’s alright, he’s stopped being jealous of them a long time ago. Plus, Derek is currently leaning against him, a hand resting on Stiles’ thigh. Stiles smiles as he positions his ratmen on the board.

Isaac wins, and Erica complains that he and Boyd had teamed up against her, which technically is true, but they only did it after she attacked both of them ruthlessly. Stiles is about to comment that if Erica hadn’t bragged so much about being ahead of them all, the three of them would probably have left her alone, but instead he yawns.

Yawning is contagious, because the others start to yawn too and stretch and pack up the game. Derek gets up and holds out his hand for Stiles, who takes it and lets the werewolf haul him up. He ends up pressed against Derek’s chest, Derek’s hand at the small of his back. The firelight is still dancing on his skin, and their faces are so close Stile just wants to lean in and press their lips together. Because he can, because Derek’s made it pretty clear that Stiles can, _should_ touch him.

“So, I guess I’m sleeping with you tonight.”

Stiles startles at the sound of Peter’s voice, and he looks around Derek to see that the former Alpha is actually talking to Isaac. And leering. Isaac, who usually ignores Peter’s flirting with an adorable embarrassed blush, looks back at Stiles and Derek, like he doesn’t know what to do.

Oh, right. Initially, Stiles should have shared a room with Isaac and Derek with Peter. On the one hand, if they switch it, Isaac will have to put up with Peter, which is not really fair to him. Also, while Stiles is mostly on board with sharing a bedroom with Derek, maybe even a bed (he doesn’t know how the rooms are actually set up), a small part of him is a bit afraid that it’s too much, too fast. On the other hand, sharing a bed with Derek. 

Derek’s arm is still around his waist, squeezing him softly when Derek leans closer to him to tell him that it’s his choice. Yeah, okay. No pressure at all. Isaac doesn’t look miserable, or like he’s begging him with his puppy eyes to save him from the Big Bad Wolf, though, he seems to just be expecting an answer. Peter is looking far too amused by the whole situation.

“Um, yeah, sure,” Stiles says, and Isaac actually smiles at him, until he looks back at Peter and sighs.

When they get to their room, both of their bags are already there, and Stiles suspects it to be Peter’s work. There are two queen beds in the room, but the bags are both sitting on the same one. Stiles can feel the blush starting on the back of his neck, spreading to the top of his ears. 

Derek closes the door behind them and wraps his arms around Stiles. Stiles relaxes against Derek’s chest, his hands coming up to rest over Derek’s as he closes his eyes. Derek presses a light kiss on his neck, just a brush of lips, soft, gentle. Stiles sighs happily, leaning a bit more against Derek, cocking his head on the side to give him better access. It feels nice. He could get used to this.

“Derek?” Stiles asks, because as much as he likes this easy thing they see to have going on, Stiles always needs to talk things through.

“Mh?” Derek replies against Stiles skin.

“So, this thing, between us, it’s more than just a thing, right?”

“Maybe,” Derek says, and then he’s licking Stiles’s jaw, and it’s fairly distracting.

“Derek,” Stiles sighs, and it comes out pretty close to a moan. He can feel Derek starting to get hard against his ass, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t turned on as well, but he really wants to talk, and this is going a little it too fast for him. “Derek, please…”

And okay, that might not have been the smartest thing to say, because it could totally be interpreted as a plea for more, but fortunately Derek is a fucking tease because he breathes against Stiles’s skin:

“Please what?”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Please, stop, we need to talk.”

Derek stops moving, it probably wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. He slowly lets go of Stiles, stepping back, and when Stiles turns around he can’t read the expression on Derek’s face.

“So?” Stiles asks, a little nervous.

“So what?” Derek arches an eyebrow. “You’re the one who wants to talk. Talk.”

“Okay,” Stiles replies, because he can totally do this. “So I? I have no clue where this is coming from, I mean I like you, and I find you attractive because hello? You’re kind of incredibly hot in a gruff kind of way, and in a surprisingly cute kind of way too when you smile, which is a complete surprise, and awesome! And I’m surprised and happy that we, that _this_ , whatever it is, is happening and I want to see where it goes, because I think it could be great, I think we could be great, and–“

“Stiles!” Derek huffs. He’s looking partly annoyed and partly amused and a little bit less stiff than when Stiles started talking, and it makes Stiles smile. “If you want me to take it slow, just say so.” _We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to_ , he seems to be saying. 

“It’s not that,” Stiles sighs, sitting on the edge of one bed. “It’s just, the whole touching thing, like you’re stating your claim over me or something, your serving me first, the way you look at me… It wasn’t at all a spur-of-the-moment thing for you, was it?”

Derek steps closer, his eyes catching Stiles’s and holing them.

“No, it wasn’t. I’ve been wanting you, wanting this,” he gestures between them, “for a while now. I just didn’t think you were interested.”

“Oh, I am,” Stiles says, grabbing Derek’s hand and pulling him closer, grinning.

“I can see that,” Derek smirks. “So, are we good?”

“One more thing, and then we can go back to the awesome making out,” Stiles says, looking up at Derek, playfully entwining their fingers. “What’s this thing with Peter?”

Derek groans. “It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, right.”

“He flirts with you. I don’t like it.”

“Peter flirts with everyone,” Stiles points out. “It’s a Peter thing. I think it’s better than when he was trying to kill everyone.”

“I don’t care about the others.”

Stiles gives him a look that says ‘this is bullshit, of course you care about the pack’. Derek replies with one that clearly says ‘you know what I meant’. It’s accompanied by a slap on the back of his head.

“Ouch, okay, okay, I get it. You’re actually really possessive. I can live with that.” Stiles grins up at Derek.

After that they end up on the bed, Stiles on his back with Derek over him, one leg between Stiles’s, grinding down on him as they kiss. Stiles’s hands are under Derek’s shirt, exploring the vast territory that is the Alpha’s back, and he’s making small noises into Derek’s mouth as his still clad erection rubs against Derek’s thigh.

Derek’s hands are just as busy under Stiles’s shirt, caressing his chest. The Alpha’s mouth abandons Stiles’s to latch on the skin of his throat, and Stiles mewls. He wraps one of his legs –the one that doesn’t have a werewolf’s cock pressing against it– around Derek’s, the sound of jeans against jeans both exciting and frustrating.

“Um, you think, maybe, we could get rid of some clothes?” Stiles asks, and Derek growls softly against his skin, but it sounds a little bit like approbation. “It’s just that it’s getting pretty warm in here.”

Derek sits up, grabbing Stiles’s waist and pulling him up with him. Then he grabs the hem of Stiles’s shirt and pulls it off in one slick motion that leaves Stiles almost dizzy. Or maybe that’s just the way Derek is looking at him, like he wants to devour him. In a very sexy, non-cannibalistic way. Derek then takes his own shirt off and Stiles almost forgets to breathe.

He’s seen Derek shirtless before, a ridiculous amount of times actually. But it was never like this, because now? Now Stiles can touch. He can touch, and he can even lick it if he wants to, and God, he actually wants to. Stiles leans in, rubs his cheek against Derek and kisses his bare shoulder. Then he moves down over Derek’s chest, leaving wet, open-mouth kisses on Derek’s warm skin, until he reaches a nipple and licks it.

Derek makes a strangled noise under him, and his fingers dig into Stiles’s waist. Stiles has to smile at that, like he just won some sort of prize. So he does it again, flicks the tip of his tongue over Derek’s nipple, and he’s rewarded by a small exhale of air that sounds a lot like his name.

They have to rearrange their legs because they’re not in the most comfortable position ever, and Stiles just takes advantage of that to push Derek down on the bed and ends up straddling his thighs and leaning down to continue his oral exploration of the werewolf’s perfect chest.

His tongue traces long, wet laces over his abs, and he stops here and there to press kisses into the skin, sometimes grazing his teeth, and Derek is making these noises, breathy little things and hissing sounds. The werewolf’s hands are on Stiles’s shoulders, not pushing, but sometimes his fingers dig into Stiles’s skin.

Stiles is having a lot of fun running his tongue around Derek’s bellybutton then kissing it. He looks up to see Derek watching him intently as he puts his hand on the edge of the werewolf’s jeans. Derek’s pupils are blown wide, his eyes darken with desire, and Stiles takes a deep breath before snapping the button open and unziping the jeans.

Derek is wearing tight boxer shorts, which are even tighter due to Derek’s impressive erection. Stiles rubs his nose and cheek against it, taking in the musky scent of Derek’s arousal. Derek gasps and makes a new noise, like a moan.

“Stiles!” he breathes out, and Stiles kind of loves hearing him say his name like this, like Stiles is completely wrecking him.

He kind of wants to kiss Derek’s dick through the fabric, to nudge the boxers out of the way and taste it, taste Derek, but he’s never… It’s kind of intimidating, the idea of giving Derek a blowjob, and Stiles doesn’t know if he’s quite ready for that, doesn’t think he is. Not yet.

So he moves back up over Derek’s thighs and leans down to kiss Derek again, his fingers slipping inside Derek’s underwear, wrapping around his cock. It feels a little bit strange to have someone else’s dick in his hand. Derek is slightly thicker but a bit shorter, and the angle is different, but it’s just so easy to move his hand, to let his fingers slide against the soft skin of Derek’s hard member. 

Derek is moving his hips in rhythm with Stiles’s hand, and he breaks off the kiss to sink thankfully human teeth into the soft flesh of Stiles’s shoulder. Of course he’s a biter, Stiles was actually expecting that. Derek is kissing the bruise now, lavishing it with his tongue and sucking slightly on it when he’s not moaning Stiles’s name. 

Derek’s hands have found their way to Stiles’s ass and are pressing him against his thigh, which is just not enough friction, but right now Stiles is entirely focused on his one mission: making Derek come. When he succeeds in his goal, Derek moans loudly, arching up slightly under Stiles, and wow, that’s the sexiest thing Stiles has ever witnessed in his entire life. He almost comes in his pants. Almost.

Derek’s breathing is hard, a loud pant as Stiles drags his hand up between them., accidentally smearing a bit of come over Derek’s abs on the way. He watches his hand, then looks at Derek’s face and grins.

“Dude, I just made you come!”

Derek huffs a breath, but it’s more fond than annoyed, and he grabs Stiles neck to pull him down in a kiss. It’s lazy and dirty, all tongue, and Stiles’s dick twitches where it’s still trapped inside his pants. Then suddenly Derek grabs his waist and flips them in one easy move so that it’s now Stiles lying on his back and Derek staring down at him.

“My turn,” Derek says with a predatory smile before he starts licking Stiles’s collarbone.

“Um, fair warning,” Stiles breathes out. “I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Derek nods against his skin, then looks up into Stiles’s eyes as he traces a wet trail straight down the teenager’s chest, dipping quickly into his bellybutton before continuing south. His fingers open Stiles’s jeans quickly, and Stiles raises his hips when Derek pushes them down his thighs, along with his underwear.

Stiles’s dick is right next to Derek’s face, and that view is taking Stiles’s breath away. He has to close his eyes, because otherwise he’s going to come before Derek even touches him.

Derek apparently doesn’t feel as intimidated by the thought of blowjobs as Stiles, or maybe it’s not the first time he does this, but Stiles doesn’t want to know, and frankly doesn’t care, because Derek wraps his lips around him and suddenly it’s all moist and warm and oh God, suction, and _wow_ , so good.

He was right though, he isn’t going to last very long. Soon enough, he can feel his orgasm coming. He barely has the time to warn Derek, who lets him go with an obscene wet pop just as Stiles goes over the edge, which means that he ends up coming on Derek’s perfect face. 

“Oh my God, dude, I’m sorry!” Stiles says, mortified, except that he thinks it’s actually incredibly hot.

Derek just huffs a small laugh and grabs Stiles’s shirt to wipe his face clean. Stiles sits up so that he can kiss him, and it tastes a little bit different, which makes Stiles slightly dizzy, because that’s the taste of his cock in Derek’s mouth. The kiss is slow and lazy and indulgent, all kinds of perfect, and Stiles smiles into it.

His hand is still sticky though, as well as Derek’s belly and anywhere Stiles grabbed him, so he decides they need to clean up before actually going to bed. Pulling his jeans back up, he gets off the bed.

“Bathroom,” he just says in reply to Derek’s raised eyebrow, and then he grabs Derek’s hand to pull him to his feet. “You too. I expect cuddling, and I don’t want us to be all sticky.”

Stiles passes his head through the door to check that the hallway is clear and they hurry to the bathroom. Cleaning up somehow leads to making out again, but they are both tired (okay, maybe it’s mostly Stiles who’s tired, because he’s the one who almost froze to death today) so it doesn’t go too far.

They’re coming back to their bedroom when a sleepy-looking Scott stumbles out of his room and freezes when he sees them. His eyes widen as he takes in their semi-nakedness (they did put their jeans back on but didn’t bother with shirts) and the angry bruise on Stiles’s shoulder, where Derek had worried the skin with lips and tongue and _teeth_.

Stiles crosses his arms over his chest almost protectively as he can feel a blush creeping its way from the back of his neck to his cheeks. Derek presses a hand at he small of his back, discreet and reassuring and warm, and Stiles swallows, raises a hand to make a vague waving gesture.

“Hi Scott,” he says, still a little bit nervous despite Derek’s calm presence.

Scott seems to realize he’s been staring, because he blinks and slightly shakes his head. He looks suspiciously at Derek, and something he sees there seems makes him promptly averts his eyes.

Stiles looks up, and Derek is smirking, looking like a cat who just caught a mouse. And it’s a bit strange to be making cat metaphors but it’s the best way to describe the smug expression on Derek’s face. Stiles’s blush, which had been receding, comes back with a vengeance.

“So, um, the bathroom’s all yours,” Stiles says, because the silence is killing him.

Scott looks between the two of them and the bathroom door with something akin to horror, but he nods and mutters “Thanks” before slowly walking towards it. He gives Derek and Stiles a last embarrassed look as he passes them.

Derek buries his face in the crook of Stiles’s neck once they’re back in their room, not to kiss him but to stifle his laughter. Stiles blinks a couple of times, because the situation seems kind of unreal, then chuckles softly. 

“Dude, Scott’s timing is just terrible!” he says, wrapping an arm around Derek’s back, just because he can. 

“It could have been worse. He could have come in the bathroom five minutes ago,” Derek comments, straightening up, his lips still stretched out in an amused smirk.

“Oh thank God he didn’t,” Stiles replies, remembering the way Derek had him pressed against the sink as he kissed his throat, licking his Adam’s apple. “He probably would have had a heart attack, and that would have ruined the retreat,” he finishes with a yawn.

“Come on, bed,” Derek orders, pressing a small kiss at the corner of Stiles’s mouth to soften the commanding tone of his voice.

They get under the covers wearing only their boxer shorts, and Stiles sprawls half on top of Derek’s large and comfortable chest. The werewolf doesn’t seem to mind at all, judging by his content smile and the way he closes his arms around Stiles.

Outside, Stiles can hear the wind still blowing hard, and now that they’ve turned off the light he sees a ridiculous amount of snow piling up outside the window. The world outside seems cold, but Derek’s skin is warm against his, the sound of his breathing lulling him to sleep.


End file.
